how the kingdom lights shine
by radialarch
Summary: Junior year. Steve Rogers navigates high school, dating, and falling in love with his best friend. / Steve/Peggy, Steve/Bucky endgame. High school AU.


**Title**: how the kingdom lights shine  
**Pairings**: Steve/Bucky (endgame), Steve/Peggy  
**Rating**: M  
**Warnings**: none  
**Spoilers**: none  
**Wordcount**: 8430  
**Summary**: Junior year. Steve Rogers navigates high school, dating, and falling in love with his best friend.

* * *

**FALL SEMESTER **

It's still the tail end of summer, but football practice has already started. Steve settles onto the bleachers with his gov book balanced on his knees. The sun is bright against the paper and he has to squint a little to see past the glare.

The whistle blows from the field below; he can see Bucky shaking his head as he comes in from the warm-up run.

Steve opens the book and starts reading.

He'd looked up when they'd started scrimmaging properly and another time when someone had taken a hard fall – not Bucky, he'd checked; a big guy they called Dum Dum – but it still takes him by surprise when a shadow falls onto the page.

"Hey," Bucky says, sounding a bit out of breath. "Take this."

It's his water bottle. Steve doesn't reach for it, just looks at Bucky as he sits down next to him. "What?"

"Water, dumbass," Bucky says, practically forcing it into his hand. "It's kinda hot."

"What? No, I'm fine," Steve says. "Don't you need it way more?"

"Yeah, I already poured like, an entire bucket onto my head." Bucky rolls his eyes. "Just shut up and drink, dude."

Steve sighs and takes a sip, then holds up the bottle to demonstrate. "You happy?"

"Thank you," Bucky says with an exaggerated bow, and then he's pushing himself back up. "Practice's probably over in like half an hour."

"Fun stuff," Steve says as he hands the bottle back. "I'll still be here."

"Yeah," Bucky says. He jogs back down the bleachers; Steve watches him go, the _Barnes_ crisp and clear across his back.

There's a bit of water still clinging to his upper lip. Steve wipes it off with the back of his hand and goes back to gov.

—

First day, Steve gets to school earlier than usual, so he's just wandering the hallways. He sees Pepper with a girl he hasn't seen before and is about to go say hi, but Schmidt gets to them first.

"C'mon, Pep," he's saying. "Go out with me."

"Wow, how many times have you asked me now?" Pepper says, hands on her hips. "I wonder if the answer's gonna be any different."

"Just one time," Schmidt says. He's standing in front of Pepper, an arm braced against the lockers and blocking her way. Steve frowns.

"Still no," Pepper says. "Give it up already, John."

Schmidt sighs but his posture doesn't change. So Steve clears his throat and says, "Yeah, John." He steps forward. "She says she doesn't want to, leave her alone."

Schmidt turns around, frowning. "This is none of your business."

"All I'm saying is leave her alone," Steve repeats.

Schmidt stares at him for a second, but the girl next to Pepper says offhandedly, "Are all your Americans this rude?" and Schmidt finally straightens up and lets Pepper go.

"You got a lot of nerve," he mutters to Steve as he goes, bumping him into a locker. "It's really not that cute."

Steve ignores him, waits until he's gone to rub at his shoulder. It's probably going to bruise, he thinks with a wince.

"Are you all right?" the girl asks him, her accent crisply British.

"Who, me?" Steve says. "Yeah, I'm fine. How about you guys?"

"Ugh," Pepper says. "We worked together in APUSH one time and now he keeps asking me out, it's ridiculous. Oh, Steve, this is Peggy, she's here from England."

"Nice to meet you," Steve says. "Sorry it wasn't under better circumstances."

"Lovely to meet you, too," she says, holding out a hand. Steve takes it; her grip is warm and solid, and she's smiling at him.

It strikes him that she's very pretty.

"I was just showing Peggy around," Pepper says. "We should—"

"Yes, of course," Peggy says, finally dropping Steve's hand. "See you later, Steve."

"Yeah," he says at once. He knows he's grinning but he can't really stop as he watches them go.

"Hey, Steve," he hears Bucky calling behind him. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Ready for physics?"

—

Peggy, as it turns out, is in Steve's calc class. When she walks into the room and sees Steve, her face lights up and she makes her way to the seat next to him. Steve smiles back at her, and keeps smiling even after class has started.

Peggy, as it also turns out, is kind of brilliant.

"So we want to prove that this limit goes to zero," Dr. Banner is explaining. "How might we do that?"

Peggy makes a soft sound. "Well, maybe if we didn't think about theta as an angle," she suggests. "It's also the arc of the circle, right?"

"Yes, _good_," Dr. Banner says excitedly. "So let's draw a diagram, and we'll see what comes to mind."

Steve looks sideways. Peggy's got a finger on her lips, concentration turning down the corners of her mouth.

Steve looks back down at his notes, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart.

—

"Hey, Steve." Bucky makes way for him as soon as he comes through the orch room doors. "Wanna team up for the calc project? I asked Dr. Banner, he said it's fine if we're in different periods."

"Oh," Steve says, stricken. "I. Sorry, I'm kind of doing it with somebody else?"

"Oh," Bucky says. "Sure. That's – yeah, no problem." He looks away for a moment, then says, "Um, who is it?"

"It's Peggy," Steve says. "I don't know if you know her?"

"Oh, Peggy Carter? She's in my Lit class."

"Yeah," Steve says. "Yeah, she's new, but she's great and she asked, and I just thought—"

"No, that's completely fine," Bucky says, holding his hands up. "Don't worry about it, man, I'll work with Clint or something."

"I'm sorry I didn't—"

"No, seriously, it's not a problem. Stop apologizing."

"I just—"

"Steve, I swear to god, if the next word out of your mouth is 'sorry' I will punch you in the face."

Bucky's smiling exasperatedly. Steve looks at him, deliberately opens his mouth, and says, "Sorry," trying not to grin.

Bucky shoves him in the shoulder. "You suck."

Steve just laughs. "Look who's talking."

—

It's a few days later when Bucky says abruptly, "So, do you like Peggy?"

Steve looks at Bucky, but he's got his eyes fixed on the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. "Well," Steve says, pretending to think about it. "She doesn't, you know, kick puppies in her free time or anything, so…yeah, she's cool."

"Oh my god," Bucky says. "That's not what I meant, jerk."

"I know." Steve grins. Then he takes a moment to actually think about it. "I mean, I dunno," he says eventually. "She really is pretty great. Did you know she's working with Howard?"

"What, on like, robots?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "That's why she's over here, actually. She's got some new ideas about how to do their programming and Howard wanted to test it out."

"Wow, that's pretty impressive," Bucky says. He pauses for a moment at a red light and then says, casual, "So you guys talk a lot, huh?"

"Well." Steve shifts in his seat, feeling a bit awkward. "I mean. It's easy to talk to her. She's really fun."

"Mm, I bet," Bucky says. "You should ask her out."

"What, no," Steve says automatically. "I mean. No, I don't think—"

"No, seriously," and Bucky's actually looking at him now. "You should. I've heard her talking, she's totally into you."

"Dude, when have you even met her?"

"I told you, she's in my Lit class."

"Oh, right," Steve says. He looks down at his knees, thinking. "Yeah, I don't know if that's a good idea."

"It's a great idea, what are you talking about," Bucky says. "C'mon, what are you scared of?"

"I'm not scared," Steve says, a little irritated. "Shut up and drive."

Bucky does. After a bit, he sighs and says, "Sorry."

Steve looks out the window. "Naw, don't worry about it," he says. "Maybe I will."

—

It's a project day in calc. Steve pushes his desk next to Peggy's and picks up laptops for both of them, and when he comes back Peggy smiles at him as he sits down.

They research Leibniz for a while, side by side, and they don't talk much but it's a comfortable sort of quiet. Steve looks sideways, watches the play of her hands over the keyboard and the way she bites her lower lip as she reads, and thinks about what Bucky had said.

"So," Steve says as they're wrapping up the hour. "How do you like it here?"

"Oh, it's been all right," she says. "I miss a few things. Proper tea. Football – not your football, unfortunately." She grins, and Steve grins back. "Having someone to go to the cinema with."

"Oh," Steve says. "You like movies?"

"I do," she says, looking right at him. "Quite a bit."

"Well," Steve says, pulling at the neck of his shirt. "If you want – well, if you need somebody, I can – I mean, I wouldn't mind. Going with you."

"You wouldn't mind," Peggy says, and her mouth is turned up.

Steve clears his throat. "I didn't mean," he starts, getting hot. "That is, would _you_ mind? Going to the movies with me."

"I wouldn't mind at all," Peggy says, a little loftily. Then she's smiling at him, very bright. "This weekend, perhaps?"

"Yes," Steve says immediately. "Does Saturday work for you?"

"It's a date," Peggy says. "Eight o'clock, I'll see you there."

"Yeah," Steve says, and smiles back. "A date."

—

Peggy meets him at the theater, wearing something red that matches the shade of her lipstick.

"Wow, you look great," Steve says, trying not to stare. "Not that you don't always look great. But you know. Especially. Okay, can we just pretend I didn't say anything?"

"Hello, Steve," Peggy says, laughing. "You look very nice yourself."

Steve can feel himself blushing. "So," he says, looking for something to talk about, "how are classes?"

"Oh, they're going as well as they could." Peggy waves a hand. "Mr. Odinson is rather…enthusiastic about epic poetry."

"Yeah," Steve says, grinning. "I hear Mr. Fury wanted him to add some actual books to the syllabus, and he just flat-out refused."

"You know, I don't think I mind," Peggy says thoughtfully. "In some ways it's a refreshing change of pace."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Well, the world's become more cynical, hasn't it," she says. "We don't believe much in heroes anymore."

"But you do?"

"Well." She smiles. "I'd like to think we all have the ability to be heroes. It's just a matter of having enough courage to carry it out."

"Huh," Steve says.

"Why, you don't?"

"I wouldn't say that," Steve says. "I guess…I just believe in doing the right thing. I don't know if that makes anyone a hero."

"Oh, I think it does," she says quietly. She's looking at him intently, eyes bright and shining. Then she laughs. "But this is much too serious for a first date, don't you think?"

The word "date" shakes Steve out of his thoughts. "Right," he says. "Movie. We were going to watch one of those."

"Then let's do that," Peggy says, still looking at him. "We can talk another time."

After they get settled in their seats, Steve is surprised when a warm hand slides over his. He looks sideways; Peggy's looking up at the screen, but she's smiling.

—

"So?" Bucky says as they're picking up lunch. "How'd it go?"

"What?" Steve says, just to be contrary.

"Oh, come on." Bucky puts a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Your date with Peggy. Was it good? Did she kiss you?"

"Bucky!" Steve says, feelings his ears go hot. "Oh my god."

"What?" Bucky says, though his mouth's twisting into a grin. "I just wanna know how concerned I should be about your honor."

"Are you serious?" Steve laughs. "It was fine. We just watched the movie."

"That's it?" Bucky says, mock-disappointed. "Steve Rogers, have you learned nothing from me?"

"Hey, you were talking about my 'honor' a moment ago, I really don't think you're a role model here." Steve makes a face. "But okay, look. We held hands, that's all."

"Ha!" Bucky says. "I knew it. She likes you."

"You couldn't've figured that out when she said she'd go out with me?" Steve says, biting back a smile. "Geez, Buck, I thought you were smarter than that."

"Shut up," Bucky says good-naturedly. "Hey, so are you guys going out again?"

"Um," Steve looks down. "We might. I mean, maybe. She said something about the expo at the science museum, we might go."

"Oh." Bucky stops walking. "Yeah, that's good, you should go! It sounds great."

"I'm thinking about it. Hey, c'mon, why are you stopping?"

"I—I think I left something in Russian." Bucky looks over his shoulder. "Go grab a table, I'll catch up."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Bucky nods, shrugging. "Or, actually, you know what? You should go sit with Peggy."

"I can't," Steve starts, because she spends her lunch periods over at Stark Industries, but Bucky's already leaving. "She's not—okay, whatever."

"Oh, hey, before I go," Bucky calls from across the hallway, "What movie did you watch?"

"Inception."

"Inception," Bucky repeats. "I haven't seen that one yet. Was it good?"

"Yeah, it was okay. Why?" Steve asks, but Bucky just turns and sprints away. Steve watches him go, a little puzzled.

—

The thing is, he doesn't mean to snap at Bucky. But he'd stayed up to finish his lab write-up and now he can't stop yawning every two seconds, and Bucky's making smart remarks about "new social life too much for you?" and it wouldn't even be a big deal except Steve knows Bucky too well not to pick up on the note of resentment in the question.

So when Steve stops to talk to Peggy before physics and Bucky says after, "I'm surprised you two've still got stuff to talk about," that's kind of the last straw.

"Dude," he says, maybe more pointedly than he means, "what's your problem?"

Bucky sort of stares at him blankly. "What?"

"You." Steve lets his backpack thump onto the floor and turns to look at Bucky. "Do you not like Peggy or something? Because you're usually a lot nicer."

"I am being nice," Bucky says, frowning. "Also, I've only talked to her like, twice, so whatever you think I did—"

"I didn't say that," Steve says, more frustrated than ever. "You just keep talking about her like—like—"

"Like _what_?"

"I don't know, you're the one doing it!"

Steve's voice has risen and he looks around hurriedly. Luckily, most people aren't here yet, and Pepper's got her head down pretending she's not listening.

"You're the one who told me to ask her out," he says, yanking his voice down to a whisper.

"Yeah," Bucky says, like that's an answer to anything. "Dude, if you've changed your mind, stop trying to blame it on me."

"I'm not trying to do anything except point out you're being a dick!"

"Okay, except I'm not the one going around accusing other people of hating their girlfriends, so…"

"That's not—you know what, whatever." Steve picks up his bag and moves over a table, to where Tony usually sits. Tony might make a fuss but at least he's a jerk on a level Steve can handle, and Rhodey probably won't mind.

He hears Bucky let out a loud sigh but he resolutely keeps looking ahead. It's almost a relief when Dr. Foster comes into the room, so he doesn't have to just pretend to have something to do.

—

When Steve walks into chess club Rhodey's already set up a board. "Hey," he says, dropping into a chair and rummaging in his bag for lunch. He fishes out a sandwich and rolls his eyes at Tony in the corner, scribbling furiously in his notebook.

"Doesn't he do this every Wednesday?"

"Well, long-term planning's never been Tony's strong suit," Rhodey says philosophically. "Also, I think he's got some moral objection to the work this time. Pick a hand."

Steve picks what turns out to be a white pawn. Rhodey turns the board around so they can start.

"I do have a moral objection – a strong one, thank you very much," Tony says without looking up. "I get assigning one, maybe two integrals to do by hand, you know? Gotta prove you can do it before you let the computer take over. But an entire page of them? That's just insulting."

"So why are you doing it?" Steve asks. He takes Rhodey's pawn and pauses to eat a little more.

"Okay, look, I'll admit that our education system has quite a number of flaws – but within that framework, it's still satisfying to turn out a good performance, all right?"

"He still cares about his grade," Rhodey translates, and moves his knight forward. "He likes to pretend he doesn't, but man, you should see him when he loses a point on one of Dr. Banner's tests.

"Just _a_ point? That's still pretty impressive, those things are brutal."

"That's not the point, Rogers," Tony sighs loudly. "The grade is irrelevant. The important thing is, losing the point is a symptom! A sign that you've misunderstood something. It highlights that you've fundamentally failed to grasp a concept—"

"Or that you've dropped a sign," Rhodey mock-whispers.

"That was one time!"

"So you keep saying." With a satisfied grin, Rhodey takes Steve's bishop. Steve groans, and they both settle down to play more seriously after that.

Rhodey doesn't ask why Bucky's not here, and Tony's too distracted to. Steve tries not to think about it.

—

"I don't even know what his problem is," Steve says, rubbing at his neck. Natasha's perched on his desk so he has to stare up at her. "He's acting like I've done something to him. I thought he was fine with Peggy, he told me he liked her!" Steve stops and blinks at that. "Wait, is that it? I thought he meant like, as a person. Oh my god, does he like her?"

Natasha bursts into laughter, clear and merry. "That is literally the worst deduction I've ever heard anyone make," she tells him. "Are you serious, Rogers?"

"Well, okay, then, you tell me," Steve says, annoyed. "Since you obviously know everything."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Look," she says, "you and Bucky have been friends since forever, yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve says slowly. "So?"

"So why would he care that his best friend's suddenly spending a lot of time with someone else, geez, let's see."

"Oh," Steve says. "Wait, seriously? Because that's kind of dumb."

"Okay, I didn't say it wasn't dumb," she shrugs. "But that's probably what's going through his head, yeah."

"Great, now I've actually gotta talk to him." Steve rubs at his face. "I think I liked it better when he was being a dick for no reason."

"Hey, you wanted to know what his problem is, now you gotta deal." She hops off his desk.

A few seconds later, Mr. Odinson strides into the room. "Today, we speak of heroes!" he say, emphatically waving his pen.

"Like we do every day," Natasha mutters, sliding into her seat, but Steve can see a tiny smile on her face.

—

Bucky spends orchestra determinedly looking down at his music, and leaves when class ends before Steve can catch him.

Steve wastes ten minutes pacing the hallway before he groans and goes down to the football field. When he climbs up to his usual spot in the bleachers, he doesn't see Bucky but Morita looks up and gives him a wave.

He hasn't worked out what to say to Bucky yet, but he doesn't have the energy to be mad at him anymore – it's always been easier for Steve to talk to Bucky than not, even when Bucky's the problem.

So he does his reading for Lit and waits, while Bucky goes through practice and maybe, possibly, sometimes looks up to where he's sitting.

At the end of practice Bucky hesitates at the foot of the bleachers, like he's not sure if he should come up, and Steve drags his backpack down before Bucky can run again.

"Hey," Bucky says, a little uncertainly. "I thought you would've gone home."

"Well, I was going to," Steve says, "but then I figured the bus ride would be really boring, so."

Bucky cracks a smile. "Really," he says. "So I'm just your ride?"

"Don't be stupid, Buck," Steve says. "You know you're not."

Bucky sighs. "I'm sorry I was a jerk," he says. "It's good that things are going well with Peggy, seriously."

"Yeah, I'm sorry you're a jerk, too," Steve says, grinning a little.

Bucky laughs. "Okay, I deserved that one," he says. "Now let's go before I decide to just leave you here."

—

"Come with," Steve says to Bucky, the day before the expo opens.

Bucky hesitates, and looks at the posters plastered all around the school. "I don't want it to be all awkward."

"It won't be," Steve promises, "I'll ask Nat to come, too," and that's how it ends up, a not-quite double date.

Steve's grown used to holding Peggy's hand by this point, his hand comfortably warm around her slim fingers. It still gives him a thrill, to know that out of everyone she could've had, she wants him, small and skinny Steve Rogers.

From behind them Natasha taps Steve on the shoulder. "Hey, lemme take a picture, the three of you and this robot. It's classic yearbook."

"Since when do you even take yearbook seriously?" Bucky mutters.

"Oh, it does sound fun," Peggy says. "Come on, Bucky."

Bucky's eyebrows do something complicated when Peggy calls his name. Then he sighs and says, "All right."

Peggy doesn't let go of Steve's hand as they arrange themselves in front of the robot, and Bucky comes to stand on his other side, an arm through across Steve's back. It's such a familiar gesture, Bucky's hand loosely wrapping around the knob of his shoulder, that Steve smiles, squeezes Peggy's hand tight—

And that's when Nat snaps the picture, the flash bright in their eyes.

"One more," she says, holding up a finger. Bucky shifts on his feet but doesn't say anything. Steve turns slightly to grin at him – "C'mon, Buck" – and Bucky looks at him with his mouth turning up in response—

"Nice," Natasha says, satisfied. "'Top students glimpse the future' – it'll be great."

"Do you think I could have a copy?" Peggy asks. "I won't be here for your yearbook."

"Sure," Nat says easily. "Gimme your email?"

"She won't be here?" Bucky asks in an undertone. "Why not?"

"Peggy's only here this semester," Steve says. "I thought you knew that."

"No." Bucky looks sideways at Peggy. "I guess not."

It's something Steve's been trying not to think about. He doesn't want to spend what time they have left worried about something he can't change.

"What's got you two looking so thoughtful?" Peggy laughs as she comes back to them. "Let's go and look around a bit more."

—

It's the day before winter break, and Steve's got too many things to say and no idea how to say them.

"So I don't know if – I mean, I hope you do, but – well, you know." Peggy's biting her lower lip, her mouth curved up at the edges. Steve makes himself stop talking and holds out the present. "Yeah, here, take it."

She undoes the wrapping carefully, peeling off the tape with a look of concentration. Then she looks at the picture of her Steve had done, in careful pencil, and gasps. "Oh, this is lovely." She leans forward to leave a kiss on his cheek. He can feel himself heating up and resists the urge to rub at the spot her lips have touched. "Thank you, Steve. For everything. You've just been – you've been wonderful."

"It's one of my better qualities," Steve makes himself grin. "Makes me irresistible to all the girls."

Peggy lets out a laugh, looking down at her shoes. "Well, I see you won't really miss me when I'm gone."

"Peggy—"

"Steve," Peggy says, and Steve stops talking. "We both knew this was coming."

Steve sighs. "I know," he says ruefully. "But I tried not to think about it too much."

"We'll keep in touch," Peggy promises, taking one of Steve's hands in her own. "We do have Skype across the Atlantic."

"Well, thank god for the advanced state of British technology," Steve mutters, and bites down on anything else he could say. Peggy squeezes his hand tightly, like he's said it anyway.

There's a car driving up to the school. "That's my ride," Peggy says. "Listen, Steve – I'm really glad we became friends."

She throws her arms around him suddenly, and then she's kissing him, a faint press to his mouth that's over almost as soon as it's begun.

"Have a safe trip home!" Steve calls to her as she springs for the car, dodging piles of slush. She waves before ducking into the car, but she's already too far for him to see her expression.

Bucky saunters out of the school then, like he's been waiting all this time. "You okay?" he asks, with a hand on Steve's shoulder.

Steve watches the car drive off, the blurred form of Peggy in the back seat. "I'll be fine," he says. "Don't worry about me."

Bucky snorts. "C'mon," he says, pulling Steve toward the parking lot. "I'll take you home."

—

Steve turns over in his bed. Peggy must be gone by now – he imagines her on a plane, high above the clouds, unbounded.

He's not sure if he's feeling sad, exactly. He feels, most of all, a keen sense of loss, of possibilities closing in on themselves.

He could have loved her, he thinks. Somewhere, in a world where she doesn't leave, he would have loved her and she might have loved him back; but that's not this future anymore, and he can feel that, deep in his chest when he draws a breath, lets it back out.

His phone buzzes on his drawer.

From: Bucky  
u ok?

Steve smiles a little, and laboriously types out,

To: Bucky  
I'm fine. I told you, don't worry about it

The answer comes fast, like Bucky's been waiting for it.

From: Bucky  
just checking

From: Bucky  
don't go all romeo & juliet on me

Steve snorts, cradling the phone above his pillow.

To: Bucky  
ok when's the last time you read that

To: Bucky  
because this is literally nothing like it

There's no answer for a while, and then another text comes, bright in Steve's eyes just as he's about to fall asleep.

From: Bucky  
want 2 hang tmr

Steve squints down at the screen. "Okay," he types slowly. "I'll come over."

* * *

**SPRING SEMESTER**

When they come back from winter break, something's changed.

Okay, Bucky still drives Steve to school and comes to chess club with him; he waits outside art class and always has a smile when Steve climbs down the bleachers after football practice.

But he won't _talk_ to Steve, which is infuriating. He lets Steve talk about his classes or worry about his violin solo without saying anything except encouraging mumbles in return, and whenever Steve tries to catch his eyes he just looks away, like—

Like he has something to hide.

This is the first time Steve can remember feeling this way, in all the years they've known each other, and he doesn't like it, at all.

—

"Hey, man." Sam comes into the art room, backpack slung over one shoulder. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Steve says. He frowns down at his sketchpad, where a figure is reaching out for a football, and turns the page.

"Doesn't sound like nothing." Sam slides into the seat next to Steve. "Something bothering you?"

"Just haven't figured out what to do for the project yet," Steve shrugs. Sam's already started on his – a runner, bathed in swaths of color. Steve's yet to turn in a thumbnail.

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Sam looks at Steve, arms crossed. "Usually you're pretty good at coming up with ideas."

"I don't know," Steve admits. "I mean, I can probably fake something, but I wouldn't be happy with it, you know?"

"Yeah, I get you." Sam thinks for a moment. "HALT."

"Hmm?"

"Four things that can sap creativity," Sam says. "If you're hungry, angry, lonely, or tired. You hungry? 'Cause I've still got a powerbar."

"Naw, I'm good," Steve laughs.

"Mm, and you don't look too tired." Sam looks him over and ticks off on his fingers. "Angry. Schmidt getting to you? I hear he's been being…well, himself."

"I can deal with Schmidt." Steve waves off. "It's not a problem."

"Yeah, all right." Sam lets it go, but not without a narrow stare. "So, it's about Bucky."

"What." Steve hates that he can feel himself go red. "How do you figure?"

"Look at you," Sam says, laughing a little. "Don't go all deer-eyed on me, Rogers, I've seen your sketchbook." He taps the page under Steve's hands. Steve looks down and groans at the doodle he's done: a torso with a wide set of shoulders, complete with Bucky's jersey number.

"Okay, fine," Steve says. "Bucky's being – weird, okay, and I don't like it. I don't see what that's got to do with art."

"The mind's a funny thing," Sam shrugs. "It's clearly got something to do with your art." He stares pointedly at the sketchbook again. Steve clears his throat and turns to a fresh page, not quite willing to concede the point.

"Talk to the man," Sam concludes, getting up to grab his canvas. "Sort out your issues."

Steve sighs. "Life shouldn't be so complicated," he mutters, burying his face in his arms.

Beside him, Sam just laughs.

—

"So." Bucky's kicking at the legs of his chair. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What's up?" Steve puts his book down. It's the first time Bucky's tried to talk to him in weeks, so Steve tries to look interested but not weirdly interested. He's not too sure how that works out.

"Yeah," Bucky says, still not looking up. "I think. Um."

He stops. There's a Descartes joke in here somewhere but Steve ends up going with an encouraging hum instead.

"I think I might like guys," Bucky says, finally, very fast. "Like, _like_ like."

"Oh," Steve says. "Okay." He stops to think of what else he can say, but then Bucky raises his head and he's biting his lip. "Dude, are you worried? Because it's totally fine with me. Seriously."

"I know," Bucky says, but his forehead smooths out. "I just thought I'd mention it."

"Okay," Steve says. "Yeah, that's. Thanks. For telling me, I mean."

"Yep," Bucky says, sounding more cheerful. "So yeah, that's it."

"So do you—" Steve starts to say, then stops.

"What?"

"Never mind."

"No, come on, I can handle it." Bucky opens his hands wide. "What?"

"Well, I just wondered if—" Steve tilts his head, wondering if he's going too far "—if you had anybody you like, that's all."

"Oh." Bucky gets up to pace for a moment. "Well. Naw, I don't think so. Not really."

"Okay, that's fine," Steve says hastily. He's kind of glad for that answer, because he's not sure how he'd have felt if Bucky had said yes. He doesn't know what that means, but now isn't really the time to think about it. "Anyway, sorry if that was—"

"No, it's totally cool." Bucky waves. "I don't mind."

"Okay," Steve says. He looks down at his book, and back up at Bucky. "Wanna play Mario Kart?"

"Yes," Bucky says emphatically, and yeah, now his voice has lost that faintly strained sound it's had all throughout the conversation. Steve hadn't realized how much it was bothering him until now. "I call Gamecube controller."

"Hey, that's not fair," Steve mutters as he follows Bucky down. "Jerk."

—

Steve's hands are sweating. He wipes them off on his pants and tries to focus on the music – there's a passage halfway through he's still not sure about, where his fingering goes a little sloppy—

"Hey." Bucky's coming over. "You okay?"

"I—" Steve clears his throat. "Um. A little nervous."

"Steve," Bucky says. "You were great during rehearsals. You know the piece inside out. Relax." He grabs his shoulders and fixes him with a warm look. Then he frowns. "Hold on," he says. "Your tie's crooked."

Bucky takes hold of both ends of the bow tie, tugging lightly, and then he leans back a little, considering. "Yeah, that's better."

And Steve's known Bucky for a lifetime, but suddenly he feels warm, like Bucky's hands are still at his throat, gentle. He looks at Bucky, the line of his neck as it sweeps into the collar of his shirt; the way he's grinning, like it matters to him how straight Steve's tie is.

And Steve looks at Bucky and it feels like something settling into place, something he should have known a long time ago.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Bucky is saying. "You're gonna be fine. You're gonna be fantastic, and everyone's gonna love you. C'mon, grab your stuff."

So Steve picks up his bow and violin and he walks out onto the brightly lit stage, and wow, this is really the worst time to figure out you're in love with your best friend.

"Think about it later," Steve tells himself. Right now is about the music, the swell and flow of it, the way it feels vibrating through his body.

He looks over at the cello section, where Bucky's giving him a grin and a thumbs-up. He grins back, small but real, and this time when he shakes his head and blinks, the shape of the music comes back to him, easy and true.

He raises his bow and draws it over the A.

—

He can't tell Bucky.

It feels wrong, somehow, like – like he's taking advantage of the fact that Bucky's gay, or whatever. Bucky came out to him, and that was an act of trust. Steve can't break that now, when he's not even sure what he's feeling, when it's all jumbled inside his head in one big tangle of _Bucky_.

So he can't tell him.

For a few days after the concert, he finds himself watching Bucky a lot. Then he stops, because he shouldn't – he doesn't have the right to look at Bucky like that, anyway. He makes himself look away when he finds himself searching for Bucky's smile, when he doodles the shape of Bucky's hands.

Bucky looks at him, a little worried, and Steve knows he's not being a very good friend but he doesn't know how to stop, how to fix it.

—

It's not exactly news that Schmidt is a jerk. But somewhere along the way, he's stepped up from just shoving Steve in the hallways to muttering stuff about Bucky, and that's – well, that's not something he can ignore.

"How's your boyfriend," Schmidt asks, mocking, and Steve stops walking.

"Shut up," he says clearly. "Don't talk about Bucky like that."

"Of course the fag's got you defending him," Schmidt scoffs. "Can't even do it himself—"

He never finishes the sentence, because Steve takes a step forward and punches him.

Schmidt takes a second to look surprised before he swings back. His fist connects solidly with Steve's face, and Steve has to blink hard to get rid of the white spots in his vision.

Steve looks up at Schmidt and says, "Wanna try that again?"

Schmidt smirks. He punches Steve in the stomach, and aims a kick to his side while he's scrabbling on the floor. When Steve gets back up he can feel blood starting to tickle the back of his nose.

"Steve," someone shouts. "What the hell."

It's Bucky. He comes running, pausing to pick Steve up and shoving him into Sam's hands, and then he's jumping on Schmidt, fists falling hard and fast.

"Get off me," Steve says, trying to step forward again, but Sam's got him firmly by the upper arms.

"No way, man."

"What. Is. Going on here?" says a thunderous voice.

"Oh, shit, it's Fury," someone shouts, sending most of the bystanders running. When everyone's cleared out, it's just Bucky, still looking murderously at Schmidt, and Sam and Steve.

"I'm not gonna ask again," Fury says. "What is going on?"

Bucky doesn't say anything, just licks at his split lip. Schmidt doesn't seem inclined to say anything, either, looking at his feet.

"It's my fault," Steve says, finally wiggling out of Sam's grip. "I started it."

"Rogers," Fury says slowly, then presses his hand to his forehead. "All right, you three – my office, now. Wilson, get yourself to class."

—

Fury decides to talk to Schmidt first, and leaves Steve and Bucky sitting in the hallway.

"So why were we fighting?" Bucky asks. "I mean, besides Schmidt's an asshole."

Steve shifts in place. Ms. Hill had gotten him an ice pack, and he gingerly presses it to his face. "He was saying stuff about you," he says finally.

"Stuff?"

"He called you my boyfriend," Steve mutters. "I should've just ignored him, sorry."

"Oh," Bucky says. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and then he says, slowly, "You hit him because he called me your boyfriend?"

"Not like that," Steve says, suddenly irritated. "I wouldn't care if you were my boyfriend. He just made me mad because he made it sound like a bad thing, and it's not, Buck. It's not." At the end Steve's out of breath and panting a little. He grips the ice pack a little harder and looks up at Bucky, jaw set tight.

"Oh," Bucky says again, and then he says, "Steve, you know I—" He pauses, looking at Steve with his lips parted a little, and then—

"I lied when I said I didn't like anybody," Bucky says, all in one breath. "Before, I mean."

Bucky's eyes are bright and he's got his shoulders squared, like he gets before he does something brave and _Bucky_ – but it's just Steve here with him, and doesn't Bucky know by now that Steve's nothing to be afraid of—

Bucky says, "I like. You."

And Steve's heart gives a funny jerk in his chest.

Steve looks at Bucky. There's a smile growing on his face he can't stop, and he doesn't want to, either. "Good," he says firmly, and reaches for Bucky's hand. "Because I think I like you back."

Bucky lets Steve take his hand and watches as Steve tangles their fingers together. "Just think?" he says, starting to grin.

"Well," Steve says, trying to keep a straight face. "We'll need to spend a lot of time together. To make sure."

They're both still smiling when Ms. Hill tells them to go into Fury's office.

—

They get suspended: two days for Steve and Bucky, and entire week for Schmidt. It's all right – it's nearly AP season, and they spend the time looking over old tests and working on review sheets.

"Man," Bucky complains lightly. "I'm getting more work done now than I ever actually did in school."

Steve also spends a lot of time getting distracted looking at Bucky. Now that he's allowed to look he can't stop, and it's like he's discovering the familiar things about Bucky all over again: the shape of his hands as they curve around a book; the way he settles his jaw into a hand as he reads; the way the lines of his face soften when he looks up and says, "What," his teeth flashing in a crooked smile.

The second day of suspension they go out to football practice. Bucky's technically not allowed to be on the field, but the big game's coming up and Coach Phillips has a flexible view of rules.

They get to the field holding hands, and Dernier whistles. "Buck's finally manned up," he yells to the team. "About damn time."

"Yeah, tell the whole school, why don't you," Bucky says, ears reddening – but he keeps his fingers clenched tight around Steve's.

"Good on you," Falsworth tells Steve, clapping him on the back. "It was rather painful listening to him talk."

"Don't listen to any of them," Bucky sighs, finally letting go of Steve's hand. "I'm gonna go get dressed."

"I'll be here," Steve tells him, and the way Bucky's mouth goes wide in a smile is – well, Steve thinks it's beautiful.

He's finally got an idea for his art project.

—

Bucky crosses the zero yard line and looks up. Steve can't see his face but he knows the expression all the same, the way he'd look slightly stunned before his mouth curves into a smile. The crowd is on its feet, its roar going through Steve's body. Steve starts moving toward the benches, ducking elbows as he goes.

The team gets to Bucky and for a moment there's only a blur of uniforms, as they toss helmets to the field and clap each other on the back. Steve waits. Coach Phillips glances at him and gives him a rare smile before heading out onto the field.

And then the team parts and Bucky's running toward him, helmet tangled in one hand. His hair's wet, spiked and pressed into his neck; his face is flushed and his eyes are very bright under the lights of the stadium.

"Well," Steve says, without really knowing what to say. "Guess you're the big star."

"Yeah." Bucky shakes his head. He's jumping a little on his feet, and he still hasn't stopped grinning – like he doesn't even know he's doing it, like he can't stop. "Gonna have to treat me real nice, now."

"Oh, yeah, because football's so important." Steve rolls his eyes. "You're gonna be ridiculous for the next couple of weeks, aren't you?"

"I thought you said I was ridiculous all the time." Bucky's dropped his helmet, and he puts an arm around Steve's shoulder. "So that's an improvement already."

"Well." Steve ducks his head as Bucky tries to ruffle his hair. "Maybe I've just gotten used to you."

"C'mon, Barnes." Gabe shouts somewhere behind them. "Stop stalling already."

Steve looks up, an eyebrow raised, but Bucky doesn't say anything – he takes a breath, and squares his shoulders, and then his hands are coming up to cup Steve's head and he's leaning down to kiss Steve.

Bucky's breath is warm and Steve lets his mouth open, lets Bucky swipe his tongue along his lower lip and right into his mouth. There's a roar in his ear and a crowd all around him but all Steve knows is Bucky's hands, careful on his neck and in his hair, and Bucky's mouth on his mouth, like they're breathing in each other.

When Bucky lets go, he's even more flushed than before, his grin a little bigger. "So," he says."

"So nothing," Steve says. "That was so not 'so'. That was like." He stops.

"Yeah?" Bucky tilts his head.

"I don't know." Steve starts to grin. "Might have to try it out a little more."

"You could've just asked," Bucky says, punching him in the shoulder. And then before Steve can punch him back Bucky's hands are on him, pinning his arms to his body and kissing him again hard and deep.

Yeah. It's a little more than just "so".

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Pepper's got her head buried in a Princeton Review book, flipping back and forth between end-of-chapter questions and the answer key. Tony's reciting key terms and definitions very fast under his breath, which might be impressive if anyone were listening.

Steve pats his pockets to check for his ID.

"Yes, you've got it," Bucky says fondly. "You also have blue _and_ black pens, like seven #2 pencils, your watch doesn't beep, and you left your phone in my car."

"Okay," Steve says, sheepish, and sits down next to Bucky to wait some more. "I wish they'd let us in already."

"I wish they'd be _over_ already," Bucky groans, leaning back on his hands. "I just want to – I dunno, chill." He looks over at Steve. "And stuff. With you."

Steve can almost feel himself going pink. "You charmer," he says, trying to keep his voice dry. "Only a week to go."

"I know," Bucky says, leaning over to kiss Steve, very briefly. "Just having a hard time waiting."

The admins finally start distributing test packets. Steve shuffles into line, not even caring he's grinning like a fool.

—

Steve's lying on his bed reading for Lit. Bucky sighs and puts his pencil down to clamber onto the bed with him, his legs tangling up with Steve's and his arms bracketing Steve's shoulders.

"Get off me, jerk," Steve says, but he puts the book down and turns over to face him, so that's not much of an incentive.

Bucky grins and drops down to kiss him. "Stop being such a good student," he says. "APs are over, you shouldn't even have work."

"Lit's not an AP class," Steve points out. "We still have a final."

"And you're gonna do fine," Bucky says. "You always do fine."

"Yeah, 'cause I study." Steve waves his book. "What about you, you've got Lit _and_ Russian."

"Don't remind me." Bucky buries his head in Steve's pillow. Steve lets him for a minute before yanking the pillow out from under his face. "Hey!"

Steve kisses him this time, biting into Bucky's lip a little. When he pulls back, Bucky looks at him with a reddening mouth and it makes Steve grin.

"We could've done this months ago," Bucky says reflectively. "You. This."

"Months ago I didn't even know you liked me," Steve points out. "Along with a bunch of other things."

"Well, yeah, you had that thing with Peggy, I thought you were straight!"

Steve punches him in the arm. "Get off my bed," he orders. "You can like both, idiot."

Bucky goes, but not before he steals one last kiss. "Fine," he sighs, mournful. "Russian."

"Gimme half an hour, okay?" Steve says, going back to his book. "And then we can do—" he grins "—other things."

"I'm holding you to that," Bucky gestures, and settles down on the floor once more.

—

The yearbook comes out. Steve spends lunch flipping through it and finds that Natasha had used the picture from the expo after all. He smiles at Peggy, her thrilled expression captured forever within the page. Next to her, Steve's looking straight ahead, and Bucky –

Bucky's looking at Steve, a wistful look on his face.

"Bucky," he says, waving him over. "Have you seen this?"

Bucky's eyebrows draw together briefly when Steve shows him. "It's a good picture of you," he says. "What?"

"Bucky," Steve says again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Bucky looks at his feet. "You were happy with Peggy," he says, voice low. "I – wanted you to be happy with her."

And Steve – he doesn't know what to say to that, because he _was_ happy with Peggy, and he wouldn't want to give those months back. But seeing Bucky like that, his expression laid bare and stark on the page—

"You idiot," Steve say, because he can't say anything else. He pulls Bucky down to kiss him, hard and deep, and maybe it means "sorry" or "thank you" or anything in between, but Bucky must understand what Steve's trying to say because he kisses him back, his hands warm at the back of Steve's neck.

"Get a room, you guys," Steve hears Tony say. "I mean, there are practice rooms right around the corner, you could literally get a room."

"Shut up, Tony," Bucky raises his head to say.

Steve doesn't even bother to respond, just pulls Bucky back down into another kiss.

—

Steve's art project ends up being about football. Sam is completely unsurprised.

"I mean, let's face it," he says as he's putting finishing touches on his runner. "Your project might as well be one big 'I heart Barnes' sign."

"Shut up," Steve says, grinning. He pulls at his sleeves, a little embarrassed, but he's proud of the work all the same.

On the paper, a broad-shouldered player reaches for the football. He hasn't quite caught it yet – the ball's still soaring through the air – but the player's arms are outstretched and his hands are wide open, his gaze fixed steadily on the ball.

He'll catch it, Steve thinks, satisfied. He will.

—

It's the first day of summer vacation, and Steve's lying on top of Bucky, kissing him.

"So," Steve says in between kisses, "how do you think your year went," he bites Bucky's lower lip, "objectively speaking."

"I think you definitely need to talk less," Bucky laughs, his head falling back onto his pillow. "Who even says the phrase 'objectively speaking' while they're making out?"

"Well," Steve ponders, licking his way up Bucky's neck. "Your boyfriend."

It gives him a thrill to say it, their relationship laid out like that, undeniable; and by the way Bucky's looking at him, it must give him the same feeling, too.

"C'mere," Bucky says, raising himself onto his elbows. He rolls them over, so Steve's staring up at Bucky, and then presses his mouth, warm, to where Steve's collarbones are outlined against skin.

"Bucky," Steve says, slightly breathless – and when Bucky shifts his hips a fraction, Steve realizes, delighted, that Bucky is _hard_.

"Can I—" Steve says, his fingers at Bucky's waist. When Bucky nods, he tentatively slides his hand under the waistband, into Bucky's boxers to wrap around his dick.

Bucky makes a choked sort of nose as Steve kind of strokes it. It's not too different from touching himself, he supposes – but he sees Bucky closing his eyes, his lashes fluttering, and Bucky lets his head drop into the space between Steve's head and shoulder, his breaths coming quick and wet against Steve's neck—

And then a hand is reading into his pants, to tug at him, and Steve lets out a soft _oh_ as he keeps touching Bucky, gripping a little tighter and moving in long, slick strokes.

Bucky mutters, "that's it," and "jesus," and "yeah, Steve," and then he goes back to kissing Steve, hot and fervent against his mouth, so when Bucky comes he gasps into Steve's mouth, like a surrender.

"I think my year was pretty good," Bucky says after a while, in a voice both sleepy and satisfied. "Objectively speaking."

Steve tugs one of Bucky's arms over to use as a pillow and closes his eyes, smiling.


End file.
